So Here We Are
by eurochick
Summary: Now in their mid-twenties, the gang has to deal with all sorts of new adult problems. But how will Helga deal when Arnold comes back into her life for the first time since middle school? The summary sucks, but the story won't. Please read and review!


_Hello, everyone. Some of you may have read my other stories, which are under Liberty's Kids and Jane Austen. If you have, I know I haven't updated those in a really long time, and I apologize. I'm a senior in high school right now, so as you might imagine, my life has been really crazy. I decided that I needed to take a break from those other stories and try something different. So I'm going to work on this for a little while, just for something fun. Rest assured that I have every intention of going back to my other work at a later date. I just wanted to mix it up a little. Oh yeah, and obviously I don't own any of the Hey Arnold characters or anything like that. Please do enjoy._

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright and locked position. We should be landing at the Hillwood City Regional Airport sometime within the next ten or so minutes. Thank you for your cooperation, and, as always, thank you for flying with us today."

Helga Pataki took the stack of papers she had been working on and stuffed them unceremoniously into her briefcase, then pushed the tray table back into place and stared out the window. Below her, she could see the tops of the buildings that made up Hillwood City coming into sharper focus. It felt good to be back, like it always did when she came back from a business trip. Except this time the business hadn't had to do with her job as a stockbroker, but with her job as Olga Pataki-St. Regis' younger sister. Five years ago, at the age of thirty-two, her sister had married fabulously wealthy businessman Henry St. Regis, quit her own job as an attorney, and become just as much of an overachieving mother as she had always been an overachiever at everything else. She lived in Denver now with her husband and three children, and Helga was just coming back from a weeklong visit there. Fortunately, a week was all the more time she could spare from work, for even though her relationship with her sister had improved over the years, they probably never would be particularly close. And seeing her sister's happy home only made her realize just how much was lacking in her own personal life. Here she was at the age of twenty-five, without a husband, or a fiance, or a boyfriend, or even any potential prospects. Her job just didn't allow for much of a personal life.

And that was another thing: Helga hated her job. Oh, it wasn't that she wasn't any good at it. Quite the contrary. She had been the top trader at her firm for the past two years, and she was sure to keep that title again this year. She just didn't like selling stocks. What she really wanted was to be a writer, but Big Bob had threatened to withold her tuition payments if she declared an English major, and as she had been a student at Northwestern at the time, there was no way she could keep going to school without his help. So she had picked business, at her academic advisor's urging, and never really looked back. If there was one thing Helga Pataki had learned in her life, it was to live without regrets. Regrets would only bring you misery, and she definitely didn't need any more of that.

The plane was landing now, its wheels bumping against the tarmac and causing Helga to grip the arms of her seat until her knuckles turned white. For her, this was the worst part of flying. She didn't breathe easy again until the plane had come to a complete stop at the gate and passengers were standing up to get their stuff out of the overhead bins. Helga traveled lightly, and so she had nothing but her sleek and stylish black leather briefcase to take with her off the plane and onto the tarmac. It was a little past six, and a soft October dusk was just beginning to settle over everything. Helga breathed in deeply. She loved the smell of the city. Hell, she loved _everything_ about the city. It was a part of her, and she couldn't see herself ever living anywhere else.

Inside, she found two of her best friends in the world waiting for her in the baggage claim area. Gerald and Phoebe Johanssen had been sweethearts from elementary school, and they had married three years ago soon after their college graduation. They now lived in a small apartment and struggled to make ends meet while trying to get their first joint venture-a community organizing and advocacy organization-off the ground. As for their second joint venture, well, that was readily apparent to anyone who so much as looked at Phoebe.

Helga greeted both of her friends with hugs and kisses on the cheek. "Look at you, Pheebs!" she exclaimed. "You are like the cutest pregnant lady ever!" Yes, Phoebe and Gerald were expecting their first child in another four or so months. And she did look cute: Short, with shoulder length black hair pulled back into a ponytail and delicate Asian features, dressed in flats, jeans and a loose smock style top beneath a denim jacket. She was enough to make Helga, tall and statuesque, feel like a gross hulking monster in her tailored designer suit and spike heels.

Phoebe giggled self-conciously. "It's so great to have you back, Helga! I know you must be incredibly busy, but you have to come to dinner with us. Doesn't she have to come to dinner with us, Ger?"

Her husband turned from the baggage carousel, Helga's compact rolling suitcase in hand. "Yes, she does," he said. "Nothing fancy, just pizza, but you and I can have a beer and laugh at Phoebe with her water. How does that sound?"

Helga wrinkled her nose. "You know I don't drink beer, Gerald, but if it was a Merlot instead of a Michelob, then I might be interested."

"Deal," he replied, and the three friends headed for the exit, Gerald taking the suitcase, Helga her briefcase, and Phoebe the job of remembering where Gerald had parked their ancient Volvo.

A little over an hour later, the trio was seated in an out of the way booth at Folgerelli's, their favorite pizza place in Hillwood City and a hangout dating back to their high school days. Helga sat on one side, the Johanssens on the other, talking and laughing while they waited for their pizza. "So," said Helga, taking a sip of her wine, "what all have I missed since I've been gone?"

Phoebe and Gerald exchanged a quick, nervous look. "Well, um, Rhonda's got a new boy toy."

Helga was plainly not impressed. "Rhonda's got a new boy toy every week. What else you got?"

Her friends looked at each other again, and this time, their nervousness was even more palpable. Helga stared them down, her blue eyes like chips of ice. "Phoebe, Gerald? What else is going on? Tell me."

"Should we tell her?" Phoebe asked her husband.

"I thought we should get her good and drunk first," he quipped in reply, laughing apprehensively.

Phoebe swatted playfully at him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Do you want to tell her, or should I?"

"Definitely you."

Helga narrowed her eyes even further until they were nothing more than narrow slits. "Tell-me-what?" she repeated, her voice deceptively calm.

Phoebe took a long drink of water, then spoke quickly, as if she was afraid she wouldn't be able to get the words out otherwise. "Arnold's coming back."

Helga downed her entire glass of Merlot in one go. "You have got to be shitting me," she said.

_So, what did you think? This is really the first modern-day story I've tried to write, which makes it kind of exciting. I apologize in advance for any plot developments that may not be canonical. It's been a really, really long time since I've seen Hey Arnold. We're talking at least three years here. If I make a mistake, it's just cause I don't know any better. Feel free to correct me. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. PLEASE REVIEW! I love getting feedback._


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